Ron Bashing
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Summary
Draco was incensed.
As if he gave a shit about his reputation. If Granger left Weasley this minute, he’d happily fuck her in the middle of the Ministry atrium, where the entire Wizarding world could watch how quickly he reduced the Golden Girl to begging for him to come inside her.
His blood pressure rose and his fists clenched as the puzzle pieces in his mind slowly formed the entire picture.
Weasley was cheating on Granger.
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Summary
It wasn’t until Draco found himself staring silently at his calendar for the following Saturday night, feeling as though he had floated several feet outside his own body, that fragments of the conversation began returning to him. Red spoke first. She had said it had recently come to light that their husbands had engaged in some very non-Gryffindor behaviour during an Auror trip to Portugal. Apparently, the only way to answer the spectacular shame of it all was to make use of the two men their husbands loathed most.
Which was how Draco Malfoy came to be standing in his study, hastily scrawling words across his calendar:Shag Granger — 7:00 PM
The ink was still drying when Theo, who was standing over him in his own brand of dumbfounded stupidity, leaned over his shoulder, plucked the quill from his fingers, struck a neat line through the entry, and added instead:
Foursome with Red, Granger, and Nott — 7:00 PM
Note: The girls to approve photographs before anything is shared with husbands, or ex-husbands, pending clarification. -
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Summary
What might unfold when Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are paired up on a DMLE case and find themselves stuck in a cabin for three nights?
A playful and steamy one-shot
Enjoy :)
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Summary
When Theo convinces Draco that it's easier to roam the castle Poly-juiced as a certain ginger Gryffindor, the last thing Draco needs is to run into Hermione Granger.
But an empty potions classroom and a relentless wave of lusty thoughts have Draco rethinking those weak-willed morals of his.
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Summary
It hadn’t meant to become anything—certainly not the obsession it had turned into. It started harmlessly enough. Draco sat behind Granger in a few of their eighth-year classes, bored, tapping his foot. He thought it wouldn’t hurt to probe into her mind, just a touch. Her Occlumency was weak. There was no wall, no defense, and Draco was a very skilled Legilimens; he’d have sensed a barrier. Whatever went on in the Golden Girl’s head was likely just a never-ending list of studious answers or ways to be even more insufferable.
What he didn’t expect was the image that would change him indefintely: Granger—fantasizing about his cock, pacified in her mouth beneath the Quidditch stands, while she played with herself. The shock of it nearly made him jolt upright.
Blood rushed to his groin, leaving him sweaty, disoriented, and suddenly desperate to see that scene play out in real life. A smugness ravaged in Draco’s chest, a trophy of victory.
Hermione Granger wanted to fuck him. What a depraved little slut.